


If You Need A Reason

by slash4femme



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cuddling, Living Together, M/M, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been living together without really meaning to, now England wonders maybe he'd like it to become something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Need A Reason

“It’s, like, totally cold out there.” Poland rubs his reddened hands together as he comes into the living room and England looks up from where he’s been working, laptop on his knees.

“Hardly colder than your own country I should think.” England points out and Poland rolls his eyes.

“That’s, like, not the point. The point is I’m cold now.” The smaller blond nation sighs as he moves from living room to kitchen. “I’m going to make leniwe pierogi for dinner by the way.”

“I thought I would cook something tonight.” England tells him trying to finish up the financial report he’s writing.

From the kitchen Poland makes a disbelieving noise “Like Hell I’m letting you anywhere near food England. You’re a walking culinary disaster!”

England wonders, not for the first time over the last few weeks, why he’d let Poland staying with him in the first place. In his own defense though it had all happened rather fast. Poland had been in London on business and had showed up on England’s doorstep with a suitcase and proceeded to make himself at home. It wasn’t like he’d asked England’s permission to take over his flat.

In the kitchen Poland starts singing accompanied by the bang of pots and pans and England lets himself smile ever so slightly. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone but it’s rather nice to have someone else around the place. Poland is constantly cheerful, a good cook, and he buys England presents for no reason. So all and all things could be a lot worse.

Dinner is hot, delicious and filling, England thinks it’s a lot better then the instant food he’d be eating if Poland hadn’t been there. Afterwards Poland goes into the guestroom, he’s taken over, to talk on the phone. England washes all the dishes and then dries them and puts them away and then goes back into the living room to finish up his paperwork. Poland still hasn’t come out and England frowns a little at that. Most evenings lately have been spent with both nations curled up on either end of the settee fighting over what they’re going to watch on the telly.

When he hears the guestroom door slam and Poland moving fast towards the kitchen England relaxes a little without realizing it. He waits while reading the rest of the report but Poland doesn’t come into the room, instead he hears the door to the toilet slam. England waits and goes through another report but Poland doesn’t come out. Minutes tick by and become twenty and England sets aside his laptop and stands.

“Poland are you all right?”

England wraps on the door, and Poland doesn’t answer but there is a faint sniffing noise from the other side. England waits a few more minutes and cautiously pushes at the door. It’s not locked and it swings open to reveal Poland perched on the back of the toilet, feet up on the lid. A bottle of England’s whiskey, looking out of place, cradled between his hands. England takes in the scene for a moment then leans against the door frame arms folded across his chest. Poland looks at him before his gaze drops to the floor.

“Stupid Liet.” Poland’s voice is soft but unmistakable bitter. “He’s gone off to America’s house again, and he’s, like, practically living there now. And whenever I want to talk about us he’s always like, there is no ‘us’ anymore Poland, or I need space Poland, or I love you, but just like a brother Poland.” Poland raises the whiskey bottle to his lips and chugs back enough to make even England blink in mild shock. “Like, I know I was a bastard back in the twenties but that was, like, almost ninety year ago and shit.” Poland rubs one hand across his mouth, “I just want him to give me a chance again.”

England thinks about the last time he and France really talked and feels his stomach twist in sympathy. “Well you’re not going to solve anything drink in the loo.”

“Yeah I guess.” Poland climbs down still firmly holding the whiskey bottle and follows England into the living room. He curls up in one of England big armchairs and glares unhappily at the floor, but England notes he doesn’t attempt to drink anymore. England doesn’t really know what to do; he’s not good at consoling people. Luckily after a few more minutes Poland sets the bottle down on the floor next to the chair and rubs both hands across his face before muttering something about going to bed and heading off to the guestroom.

England watches him go feeling a little concerned before turning back to his laptop. He send off a few emails and then heads for his own room. Once in the safe confines of his bedroom England relaxes a little. With a sigh he gets undressed, puts own an oversized t-shirt with a rock band logo across the front and crawls into bed with a book. Dozing off a few hours later he manages to pull off his reading glasses and put them with the book on the bedside table for falling deeply asleep.

Sometime much later England wakes with something warm pressed against his side. He’s out of bed and fumbling for the army-issue handgun in the bedside table before he’s even fully awake. From the bed Poland makes a tiny disgruntled noise and looks up at him sleepily. The other nation’s blond hair is mussed and he’s curled up in England’s own bedspread. The smaller nation is wearing something turquoise-blue, made out of silk, which seems to have lace across the where the breasts would go, and thin little straps almost falling off his shoulders. England gapes at him, holding the gun loosely between his fingers, as his still sleep-addled mind shuts down and goes into what he privately refers to as Victorian auto polite. He blushes hard and averts his gaze from Poland’s lace covered chest.

“England, like, come on and come back to bed already it’s cold.” Poland rubs one fist across his eyes sleepily.

“But, but-” England sputters brain still refusing to deal with the situation, “you should . . . I . . .we can’t-”

Poland sighs. “Look it’s not like I’m trying to take advantage of you or anything. It’s just that I was cold and I really just want to snuggle with someone right now.” He holds the blankets open and England catches a glimpse of creamy thigh barely covered by blue silk. No wonder Poland is cold, England thinks, since he is practically naked.

“Come on.” Poland says again impatiently, and England debates going to sleep on the settee, or ordering Poland back to the guestroom. On the bed Poland shivers a little and England sighs and then puts the gun back in the nightstand and carefully slide back into his side of the bed. Poland snuggles up to him immediately. Slim arms going around England’s shoulders and Poland presses his face into England’s chest. England goes still and stiff but Poland doesn’t seem to mind, making a happy little noise and pressing himself close, crossing one bare ankle over top of England’s. They lie like that for several long minutes and England concentrates on breathing deeply and on Poland’s warmth pressed against his chest. He looks down at the other nation, at his bare shoulders crisscrossed by scars. Poland’s nose is snubbed a little at the tip and his lashes are long and golden against his pale cheeks. His breathing is soft and regular but England can tell he’s not asleep. Slowly England reaches out and wraps one of his arms around the other nation’s shoulders and pets his hair gently with the other hand, like he used to when America was small. Poland sighs against England’s chest, and then tilts his face up to look England squarely in the eye.

“I’m like, totally going to kiss you now.” Poland tells the other nation, “feel free to leap out of bed again afterwards.” 

He leans forward and kisses England softly before the other nation can react. England’s lips are dry but Poland’s are smooth with the gloss he’d been wearing earlier, and the kiss is gentle and chaste and Poland pulls back after a few seconds. Then England leans forward and kisses Poland. Their lips slide together, a little wetter and a little deeper this time and Poland’s hands tighten around England’s shoulders. Poland’s tongue pushes against England’s lips and England’s mouth opens for him. One of England’s hand’s skims down Poland’s back feels the slight rise of scars and silk move against skin. Poland makes a small noise into England’s mouth, and hooks one slim bare leg over one of England’s equally bare legs. They pull apart just far enough to breath and Poland licks already moist lips.

“So we are, like, totally doing this right?”

For some reason he seems almost shy now and England’s fingers come up to gently twist in short blond hair. He swallows and thinks about how long its been since he’s had sex with anyone, thinks about Poland bustling around the kitchen in one of England’s own aprons singing to himself in Polish.

“Yes.” England clears his throat a little, “we are doing this.”

Poland kisses him again hands coming up to hold England’s head in place. While England’s own hands skate down Poland’s back to toy with the lacy edge of the tiny nightgown. Poland breaks the kiss with a small wet noise before sitting up and pulling the little silky thing he’s been wearing over his head, and England strips off his own t-shirt. That leaves him in only boxer briefs and Poland in silken turquoise panties. England’s fingers trace across the mass of twisting and over-lapping scar tissue that takes up most of Poland’s chest partially obscuring one little nipple. He rubs his thumb across the other one until it stands erect and Poland moans and pushes his chest forward into England’s hand. Poland’s own fingers trace the large scar the runs diagonally across England’s torso from shoulder to hip. Poland squeezes both of England’s nipples hard at the same time and England groans head falling forward to rest against the other nation’s shoulder, hand resting against Poland’s belly.

There is nothing except the sound of their ragged breathing and then Poland laughs low close to England’s ear and tugs at his nipples again. England’s bites his lower lip and can’t keep his hips from jerking forward. Poland’s fingers stroke down England’s body to toy with the waistband of his underwear before groping him firmly through the cloth. England lets out a whimper and looks down; Poland is obviously hard, his erection straining the silk of his knickers. England lets go of the smaller nation and presses down on the little lacy waistband of his panties until the tip of Poland’s cock pokes out. England groans at the sight and Poland shivers. 

“Like totally take off the rest of your clothes now.” He orders before pushing the panties down over his own thighs and off. England pushes his own underwear off, Poland’s eyes skim down his body. Then his arms wrap around the other nation’s neck and he pushes their bodies together. England groans as their erections brush and the reaches down to wrap his hand around the both of them. After a moment of sweat, almost painful friction, Poland tugs at his wrist and then draws England’s hand up to his mouth. England watches transfixed as Poland’s little pink tongue runs along his palm licks up each fingertip nip at the tip before pulling away. England shivers and wraps his now wet palm around them both and strokes. They both pant and Poland’s hips jerk into England’s grip and England strokes across the tips of both of their erections with his thumb. Poland mouth falls open, his eyes close and his body shakes as he comes, and England grunts as Poland’s semen spatters across his own chest and stomach dripping down onto his cock. He lets go of Poland and jerks himself fast and rough, a few more strokes before he comes. Poland collapses onto the bed, and England lets himself lie down as well.

The bed is warm and England feels light and boneless. After a moment he grabs his own t-shirt from a few feet away on the bed wipes himself off and then wipes Poland clean as well before dropping it off the edge of the bed. Poland’s eyes are closed and he mutters something that sound suspiciously like “shiny ponies” before rolling onto his stomach and draping an arm and a leg across England. England wrestles the comforter from underneath both of them and drapes it back across them ignoring for the moment the fact that he’ll have to wash it tomorrow.

He wakes up when his alarm goes off and Poland is still draped across him snoring lightly. Squinting against the early morning sun England peels the smaller nation of him and stumbles to the bathroom where he showers, brushes his teeth. Then back to the bedroom, where Poland is still asleep, to dress. England finally makes it down stares and puts the kettle on. By the time Poland drags himself down the stares, dressed only in one of England’s dressing gowns, England has already downed two cups of tea and burnt three pieces of toast black, plus checked his email.

“You, like, tried to cook something didn’t you?” Poland scrunches up his nose at the burnt toast smell that hangs in a cloud over the kitchen. He makes himself the instant coffee England keeps to infuriate France with, and sit at the kitchen table. Poland yawns, “never mind I’ll totally make us eggs after I take a shower.”

England nods a little distractedly already starting on today’s first batch of paperwork and Poland hums a little to himself as he sips his coffee. “Like England?”

England looks up and his mind flits though all the things Poland could say next: I’m leaving soon you know, last night was a total mistake, like you know it was just a one time thing right? I totally want to do it again.

“This tablecloth is super ugly.” Poland fingers it critically and England blinks at him and then other nation smiles “I saw a much cuter one with pink flowers when I was out yesterday. I was thinking I could buy it when I go shopping today and oh by the way we are totally going to need milk and cabbage for dinner tonight.”

England slowly smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for Hetalia kink meme
> 
> Notes:  
> ~ I know this could have been edited better but I wrote it fast while at my parents' house.
> 
> ~ I usually don't like England paired with anyone other then France and Poland paired with anyone but Lithuania but I ended up really liking this pairing. Maybe I'll write more for them.
> 
> ~ leniwe pierogi or lazy pierogi is delicious


End file.
